My production is limited and virtually all hand-worked. Chisels, mallets, rasps, files, scorps, scrapers have replaced power equipment. I now rely on Mennonite friends to supply me with boards required outside my current inventory.

A gallery is growing in Gatlinburg. A presence there is expanding. Application for membership in the Southern Highlands Craft Guild has begun. Pursuit of that goal initiated by abandoning Ohio to become a 'Volunteer'.

On this site, soon will appear further documentation. It is lovely to see, but magnificent to touch. Hopefully, together, we shall share that opportunity.

My studies began at my father’s table saw, standing upon a box he built. The blade threatened, the imminent danger, respected. I was four and eager.

Formal education ended at the University of Cincinnati - School of Design, Art and Architecture. The corporate world was not my cup of tea. I worked as an optician in southern Ohio nursing homes, becoming painfully aware of infirmity, blindness and death. This experience drove me to place art into the hands of individuals at their most grievous moment.

Thus, preserve a bit of life. Generations to come are provided a memory. Ancestors’ touch can now be sheltered, celebrated and treasured. Friends and families are kept in ‘contact’ as the patina deepens and enriches over the generations.

To see this art, feel...

An Artist’s Statement

My studies began at my father’s table saw, standing upon a box he built. The blade could be seen. The imminent danger, respected. I was four and eager.

Formal education ended at the University of Cincinnati - School of Design, Art and Architecture. Though the corporate world of Industrial Design was not my cup of tea, I left with the fundamentals firmly entrenched. My goal; place design into the hands of individuals who had no ready access. This experiment, at the edge of Appalachia, has had both apogee and perigee.

I have ended my career and now pursue my passion, a study of texture, shape and balance. I have determined sight is, sometimes, a burden. Thus, a preparation for blindness has begun. I can now differentiate between subtleties here-to-fore unfelt.

A foray into a tough market has proven how challenging art can be. With the support of friends, Diane the best of all, I am allowing my art to grow unchecked.

Collaborations and alliances are being formed.

Enjoy!

The recent deaths of my father and several close friends drove me to explore artistic expression. Grief has led me to honor their memories. Repeatedly, friends asked me to inter their loved ones cremains within sculpted blocks of my favorite medium; wood.

Such efforts, plus decades of working as an optician in southern Ohio nursing centers, and numerous cases of blindness clarified my vision. Even though aesthetically pleasing and incomparably beautiful, funerary objects d’art, nevertheless, come too late. Voids, in the lives of loving survivors, remain.

Thus, a bit of life remains. The original owners’ oils and caresses provide generations to come, a memory. Offspring deserve something better than a grim hunk of wood with a macabre purpose. Ancestors’ touch can now be sheltered, celebrated and treasured. Friends and families are kept in ‘contact’ as the patina deepens and enriches over the generations.